


Good Deed Gone Wrong

by Aprilhw3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Asoiaf - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Merry Sevenmas!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aprilhw3/pseuds/Aprilhw3
Summary: Sansa has the most brilliant Sevenmas gift idea EVER for her loved ones. This year, she is going to commit random acts of kindness in honor of her friends and family. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 30
Kudos: 100





	1. Sansa, you idiot!

It was a lazy weekend day in Wintertown. Sevenmastime was always Sansa’s favorite time of the year. From the hustle and bustle of passersby with their shopping bags full of goodies, to the beautiful wreaths on front doors in her neighborhood, She loved every bit of this season. The air was so cold today that it felt like a refreshing cleanse of her system every time she breathed it in. 

She had just left her favorite cafe, where she’d spent the afternoon sipping hot cocoa and thumbing through some magazines and catalogs for inspiration for an apartment she was re-doing. As an interior designer, browsing for decor was one of her favorite pastimes, even in her spare time off the clock...it never felt like a chore. 

As she approached her apartment building, she noticed a very large man sitting on the sidewalk by the front entry. From time to time, the homeless would choose a spot outside of her building, probably figuring that it was a nice, safe area. Unfortunately, all too often, residents would complain, forcing those poor people to move. She never had an issue with the homeless parking themselves outside the door for a little warmth. It wasn’t like they were hurting anyone. 

Rather than approach the man, she turned back around and retraced her steps back to the cafe, congratulating herself on her brilliant ‘kindness counts’ idea along the way. She planned to buy the man a good lunch and give him some cash. After all, that gesture would be right in line with her decision this year to forego Sevenmas gifts to her friends and family in favor of good deeds. Rather than spending money needlessly on a scarf or scented candle that would surely be regifted, she would help someone in need and let each friend and family member know exactly what she’d done for someone else in their honor. So, who was going to be the lucky recipient of today’s good deed? She figured helping this homeless man, buying him lunch, and giving him some cash might be the perfect present for her Aunt Lysa. 

When it was her turn in line at the, she said, “I’d like to have a turkey avocado BLT, double meat, please.” After placing her order, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator, a bag of chips, and a large chocolate chip cookie from the counter. Not knowing what the man liked or if he had any particular dietary requirements, she ordered her favorite. You couldn’t go wrong with anything from Hotpie’s. 

Returning to the sidewalk and feeling good about herself, she headed back toward her building. She’d also slipped a 50 dragon bill into the paper bag. 

Luckily, the man was still sitting in that same spot when she returned. From a distance, she could see he was wearing a flannel shirt. Or was it a jacket? As she approached, she also noticed ripped jeans. A baseball cap covered his face. 

Now standing right in front of the man, she bent down and cleared her throat. “Hello…I’m Sansa. I thought you might be hungry,” she saidcheerfully, holding the bag out to him.

He didn’t immediately say anything as he lifted his hat a bit so he could see her face. Her eyes widened at the large scar that ran from his neck all the way up under the cap. 

She stammered, “There’s also a fifty-dragon bill inside the bag. All I ask is that you don’t spend it on alcohol.”

He opened the bag and took a whiff, then rasped, “So…. it’s okay to spend it on strippers?”

Not knowing how to answer that, she narrowed her eyes and said in an icy tone, “I would prefer you didn’t, but whatever makes your tinsel tingle, I suppose.”

He abruptly lifted his hat off his head. That was when she noticed his striking grey eyes. And the large bald patch at his temple. And the missing eyebrow. And the mangled ear. She gulped and retreated a step.

His eyes seared into hers angrily as he said, “The fuck is wrong with you, lady?”

She swallowed nervously. “What do you mean?” 

“You think I’m homeless?”

Oh.

No.

What?

He’s not homeless?

In an attempt to defend herself, she cringed and said, “Why else would you be sitting on the ground outside of this building?”

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe I’m doing some work inside and came out for some fresh air...or to make a call...or to tie my fucking shoe!?” He scowled. “Any number of things.”  
  
It was then that she really took a moment to look at him. He wore one of those heavy flannel shirts that was more padded like a jacket, the ones you always see construction workers wearing. Of course. From a distance, he looked like he might be homeless, but with every second that passed, she started to realize just how much of a mistake she’d made. The rips in his jeans were intentional, not the result of tattered wear. He had the perfect amount of chin scruff and large hands that looked like they’d seen their share of work. He was clean and didn’t look anything like someone who lived on the streets with limited access to a shower. Rather than smelling bad, he smelled quite good in fact, like fresh air and pine. He wasn’t handsome, but rugged and masculine. He looked...sexy. “Not homeless. Not homeless at all, you idiot,” she thought to herself.

“Clearly, I made a mistake. But you were sitting on the ground…I jus—”

“So, if someone takes a rest on the ground, they’re automatically homeless?”

“We’ve had homeless people camp out in this very spot before, so it seemed plausible.”

He scratched his chin. “Let me ask you this, Sansa...if a whore walks the streets in heels, bending down talking to strangers, does that mean that every woman walking the sidewalk in heels—such as yourself—who bends down and talks to strangers is a whore?”

“Is he indirectly calling me a whore?” She thought, aghast.

Plain and simple, she had tried to do a good thing. And she had fudged it up spectacularly. But she felt that was no reason for him to be so mean.

“Look, I’m sorry. Clearly this was a huge misunderstanding. I was just trying to do something good for someone.”

“So you could feel better about yourself...”

She squinted. “Excuse me?”

“By labeling someone you perceive as beneath you, it makes you feel better about yourself. Further solidifying the entitled rich girl that you are.”

Oh no, he didn’t.

Despite the frigid air, her body temperature started to rise. 

“I’ll have you know, I work very hard for my money. There’s not a spoiled or ungrateful bone in my body.”

“Maybe, then, you should do your research before handing your cash out to random people on the sidewalk. But it didn’t fucking matter to you. You didn’t care who you were handing it to, as long as you were getting your fix of self-righteousness.”

This asshole was getting on her last nerve.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you’re even doing outside of my building, but—”

“Finally...she asks who the fuck I am!” He stood up..and up..and up...until she was craning her neck to maintain eye contact with the darn giant. She retreated another step. “That might have been a good idea before you handed me fifty dragons and a bag of food?”

“You know what? I am sort of wishing now that it was a bag of dicks instead, because that’s what you deserve…to eat a bag of dicks!” she huffed, “I’m done with this conversation. Have a nice day. Stuff the sandwich up your ass and use the money to buy yourself some manners!”

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

It took Sansa hours to calm down from that infuriating encounter.

Later that evening, she was headed out with a friend when she stopped at the sight of something at her feet just outside her apartment door. 

It was a paper bag. Upon closer inspection, it looked like the same paper bag she had given to that guy earlier—because it said ‘Hotpie’s’ on the front.

Hesitantly, She picked it up and opened it, gasping at the sight of what looked like seven dildos inside in a rainbow of colors. 

What the fudge?

There was a note.

_Per your suggestion, I bought a bag of dicks. I know that technically you said you wished you’d given me a bag of dicks and that I should buy some manners, but they don’t sell manners on Main Street. As luck would have it, they do sell dicks. So, wish granted. While I’m unable to “eat” them as you so kindly suggested…(because, you know, you’re such a nice, giving person who cares about your fellow man), I figured you might get more use out of a bag of dicks than me. Merry Sevenmas and I hope it tingles your tinsel!_

_P.S. The food and the fifty you left me with went to an *actual* homeless person as per your intention._


	2. Dinner with an older man

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. 

It had been a long time since she’d liked the woman staring back at her. 

This slinky LBD had been in the back of her closet with the tags on it for the better part of two years. Last week she’d gone to Snobby Lobby, a luxury resale consignment shop, to sell the last of her designer purses and a few of her gently worn quality clothes, including this fancy, never-worn dress. She couldn’t remember how much Harry had paid for it, but then again, she hadn’t looked at price tags back then. But when the consignment store offered her a whopping thirty dragons for a Limited Edition Daenerys Targaryan, she decided to keep it. She could wear it once and sell it on WestBay for ten times what they were willing to pay. This dress was not leaving her hands for less than a few hundred dragons, even if she could use the money to put toward next month’s rent. 

Tonight she was going to her friend Marge’s annual Sevenmas party. She’d been looking forward to it for weeks. Since she was broke, she didn’t get to see her friends too often. Her days of paying eighteen dragons for a glass of wine in a King’s Landing bar were over. Marge would undoubtedly have 300-dragon-a-bottle champagne and caviar, and she was honestly looking forward to a little indulgence. 

She applied her lipstick and grabbed a wool cape from the closet. But then on second thought, she traded the pretty cape for a heavy coat. It was freezing out, and since she wasn’t about to pay for an Uber, she could be standing at the bus stop for a while. Sansa smiled wryly when she thought about what she told people about how much happier she’d been since she started dropping the ‘extras’ in her life, she hadn’t been referring to Uber. She missed Uber fiercely. 

She took the elevator down to the lobby and stepped off ready to take on Wintertown. 

A wolf whistle from behind her turned her head. She found her elderly neighbor sitting in his wheelchair. 

“Mr. Brother? What are you doing down here?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “And in your pajamas?” 

“Waiting for pretty girls. I guess I can go back up now.” 

Sansa giggled. “Well, thank you. I’m heading to a Sevenmas party. Do you need some help before I go?” 

“Nah. You go on and have a good evening.” 

“You, too, Mr. Brother.” She responded with a saucy wink.

She walked through the lobby and exited the door. Her phone buzzed as she hit the cold air, so she paused to dig it out of her coat pocket and tugged off her gloves to text. 

**M** : Why aren’t you here yet?

**S** : Ummm… because it’s only seven o’clock.

**M** : The party starts at seven. 

**S** : Yes, but who comes on time? 

**M** : Joffrey Baratheon…that’s who. 

She hadn’t even realized he would be there. She had met Joffrey last year, and they’d really hit it off. He’d given her his number, though she had never called. It had been only a few days before her parents died, and she’d been in a dark place after…definitely not ready to jump into a new relationship—no matter how dreamy his eyes were. Plus, it hadn’t been long since she had broken things off with Harry, and dating was the last thing on her mind. Now, though...it had been a long dry spell. She typed back. 

**S** : On my way! 

**M** : Hurry. He said he can only stay for an hour or two. 

As she yanked her gloves back on, she turned around to look into the lobby. Mr. Brother was still sitting there in his wheelchair. She looked at her phone again, then at the elderly man in the lobby, then her phone. Sighing, she tucked her cell into her pocket and opened the door to go back inside. 

“Mr. Brother. Is everything okay?”

He put on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Sure. Everything’s just fine.” 

She noticed a cane a few feet away from his chair. 

Narrowing her eyes, Sansa asked. “Did you drop that cane?” 

Mr. Brother frowned. “Oh, yeah. I guess I must’ve.” She picked it up and handed it to him. Two months ago, Mr. Brother had suffered a pretty bad stroke. It left him with limited mobility in both his arms, and one weak leg. She thought the stick might’ve been the only way he could reach the elevator button. She had been so worried about getting to that party, that she hadn’t even stopped to think that maybe he wasn’t choosing to sit in the lobby with his mail on his lap. “Gods, I’m such an idiot…leaving a nice neighbor in his pajamas in the lobby to run off to a party,” she chastised herself.

She pushed the button on the wall. “I actually forgot something, so I’m going back up to our floor,” she lied. “Why don’t we ride up together?” 

The elevator arrived, and she got behind Mr. Brother’s wheelchair and pushed. “So what are you doing for the holidays this year? Any big plans?” 

“My son wants me to come to his place. He says he’s cooking, but I got my money on that he takes the stickers off the food trays before I get there so I won’t know he ordered Dornish Garden for Sevenmas. My wife always made a big deal on the holidays…roast beef on Sevenmas Eve and a ham and all the trimmings on Sevenmas day. She tried teaching the kid how to cook, but he was always too busy conquering the world. Sandor’s a good kid, don’t get me wrong, but he works too much.” 

Sansa smiled warmly and said, “My mom used to make lasagna. And fresh baked bread and pies and candy. Some of my siblings loved waking up on Sevenmas morning to see what gifts were under the tree. I loved waking up to a house that smelled like pumpkin pie.” 

The elevator doors dinged on their floor, so she pushed the wheelchair out and down to Mr. Brother’s apartment. They lived on opposite sides of the elevator. When she arrived at his door, it was already open. 

“Did you leave it this way?” 

“Yeah. I can push it open with my foot, but getting the key in can still be a bit tricky.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I would imagine.” 

Sansa wheeled Mr. Brother inside and stopped at the kitchen doorway. The room was a disaster. It looked like the place had been ransacked. Two cans were on the floor, along with a few utensils, cookies, and a gallon of milk that had spilled into a giant white puddle on the floor. And the kitchen sink faucet was running. She quickly sidestepped the spill and turned the faucet off. Glancing around at the mess again, Sansa frowned at the two soup cans on the floor. 

“Mr. Brother, did you eat dinner tonight?” 

“Yeah, sure. I’m just a little clumsy. Ignore the mess. The aide that my son makes hang around here all day made dinner before she left. I’m just living the life of a bachelor.”

Something told her that he was lying. “What did you eat for dinner?” 

“Soup.” 

She bent and picked up the empty plastic milk jug and then walked over to the garbage. Using her foot to press the pedal to open the lid, She took a look inside before tossing the container in. No soup can. Mr. Brother was a proud man. One who would rather sit in the cold lobby than ask someone to pick up a cane so he could reach the elevator button. 

“Mmm. I haven’t had soup in a long time. Would you mind if I had some?” 

He squinted at her, but Sansa smiled brightly and he seemed to forget his suspicions. “Sure. Help yourself, kiddo.” 

She went back behind his wheelchair and brought him into the living room. Picking up the remote, which was also on the floor, she placed it into his hand. “Why don’t you relax, and I’ll check out what my soup choices are, if you don’t mind.” 

He nodded. “Help yourself.” 

Back in the kitchen, she took off her coat, picked up everything he’d dropped on the floor, and mopped up the spilled milk. When she finished, she took out a pot and called out to Mr. Brother. “I can’t decide between chicken noodle and beef with barley. They both sound good. What do you recommend?” 

He yelled back. “The beef barley is all barley and not enough beef, if you ask me.” 

Chicken noodle it is.

While she heated two cans of soup, she finished straightening things in the kitchen and then set the table for two in the dining room. Sansa buttered some white bread, like her mom used to do whenever she made soup, and walked back to his chair. 

“I hope you don’t mind joining me. I hate to eat alone.” 

“Sure. Of course.” 

She set him up at the table and then watched while he struggled. His hand was so shaky that the soup would splash off the spoon before he could bring it to his mouth. 

“Would it be okay if I helped you with that?” 

His shoulders drooped, but he nodded. 

They talked while she fed him. 

“I haven’t seen that boyfriend of yours around in a while.” 

“Harry? We split up almost a year ago.” 

“Was that your doing?” 

She nodded. “Yeah, it was.” 

“Good. His shoes were too damn shiny.” 

She laughed. “And that’s a bad thing? Having shiny shoes?” 

“Don’t get me wrong. I liked to clean up for my lady every now and again, and that meant busting out the polish until I could see my ugly face in a wingtip. But the shoes on that man of yours sparkled every damn day. It ain’t normal for a man to not have a few scuff marks every once in a while.”

Harry had definitely cared too much about his appearance. She smiled and said, “He also used more hair products than me.” 

Mr. Brother shook his head. “These men today, they’re too soft. Is that why you dumped Shiny Shoes? He took longer than you to get all dolled up?” 

She thought about making up something, like she did for almost everyone who asked what happened to her four-year relationship, but then decided to be honest. “I went through a rough time after losing my parents, and he wasn’t really there for me. So I told him I needed a break to get myself together. For the last year of our relationship, I suspected he might be having an affair with his assistant. Two weeks after I asked for the break, I ran into him unexpectedly on the street. He was holding hands with his assistant. Needless to say, our break turned into a permanent separation.” 

Mr. Brother looked at me funny. “You suspected he was stepping out on you for a year and never said anything?” 

She sighed. “Yeah. It’s funny, after the thing ended, I asked myself why I never called him out on it. I think the truth was, I didn’t really want the answer because down deep I knew it already. To be honest, neither of us loved each other the way we should’ve to spend four years together.” 

“So why didn’t you kick him to the curb sooner?”

She spooned Mr. Brother the last bit of noodles from the soup and sighed. “I think I just had my priorities wrong. Harry comes from a nice family. He’s well educated and was very generous to me. My life with him would have just been… easy.” 

“My wife used to have a saying, what comes easy won’t last.” 

Sansa smiled sadly. “Your wife sounded like a smart lady.” Mr. Brother hadn’t even noticed that she had fed him both his full bowl of soup and hers. She stood with the empty bowls in her hand and winked. “And something tells me that she was talking about you when she said that.” 

She wound up hanging out with Mr. Brother for three more hours. He told her story after story about his wife. Clearly she’d been the love of his life, and the five years since her death hadn’t dulled how much he missed her. Marge had lit her cell on fire texting to ask where she was, and she wasn’t happy when Sansa responded hours later that she had decided not to come because she had developed a headache. But it was easier to tell a little white lie than to explain to Marge that she had been enjoying hanging out with her eighty-year-old neighbor more than she thought she’d enjoy her party. 

When Mr. Brother yawned, she took that as a signal that it was time to go. She grabbed her coat. “Would you like me to wheel you into the bedroom?” 

He shook his head. “I’m a little rusty, but if you’re trying to make a pass at me, I’m afraid you’re a little too young.” 

Sansa laughed. “You sure, you’re okay?” 

“I am.” He smiled. “I’m good, sweetheart. And thanks for tonight. Especially the soup.” 

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

Sansa ended up checking in on Mr. Brother at least once a day after that. They became fast friends. 

And now it was Sevenmas Eve. She planned to stop over and see him with a pie baked from one of her mom’s old recipes. She planned to hang out with him for a bit and then leave to head to a family party in Winterfell. 

With her pumpkin pie in hand, she knocked on Mr. Brother’s door. Expecting that he was probably wheeling himself to greet her on the other side, She had a big smile on her face in anticipation of the reaction he’d have when he saw her standing here with this delicious-smelling pie. 

But when the door opened, it wasn’t Mr. Brother who answered. It was…him. The giant! 

The sexy, not-homeless man who’d given her the bag of dicks. Except tonight he wasn’t dressed in a flannel work shirt and ripped jeans. He wore a blue fitted dress shirt and black trousers that stretched enticingly across his muscular thighs. He smelled like musky heaven, too. 

He grinned mischievously. “You...” 

“You,” she repeated, then looked beyond his broad shoulders. 

“Where is Mr. Brother?” 

“He’s just in the bathroom.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked. 

Before the guy could answer, they were interrupted by the sight of Mr. Brother cruising toward them. 

He smiled. “I see you’ve met my son, Sandor!”


	3. Conversation and Pie

He still had no idea what she was doing in his father’s apartment with a pie. They apparently know each other.

“This is my good friend, Sansa,” his Dad said. 

“Good friend? You never mentioned her to me.” 

“Sure I did! She’s the one who comes over and has soup with me.” 

Sandor nodded. “Ah, right. You never said her name.” 

Dad smirked. “You weren’t expecting her to be such a looker? Your old man can hang with the best of ’em, you know.” 

Sansa blushed and set her pie down on the counter. She looked absofuckinglutely stunning in a green velvety dress that hugged every curve, perfect ivory skin, big blue eyes and that flaming red hair. She looked even more beautiful than the several times he’d fantasized about her since their first meeting. Each and every fantasy would end with them angry fucking. He never thought he’d actually see her again. He knew she lived here, but everyone generally kept to themselves. 

His father wheeled himself over to the counter. “Is that your mom’s pumpkin pie.” 

“You remembered.” She smiled. “It sure is.”

He rubbed his stomach. “I can’t wait to try it.” 

Sandor placed a hand on the back of his neck and watched in bemusement. It was like his elderly father had been living a double life that included hanging out with hot women who brought him food. And here he was feeling bad for him most days. 

She flashed Sandor a taunting look. “Sandor and I have actually met before, Mr. Brother.” 

“Shit. Here we go,” he thought to himself with a groan.

His father turned to him. “No kidding? When?” 

His body went rigid, and he said nothing as he braced for her explanation. He hoped she didn’t throw him under the bus and tell his father what an ass he had acted like that day. 

“Yeah. He was outside the building one afternoon. We got to talking, didn’t we, Sandor?” 

“Yes, we did.” He grinned. “Sansa actually shared her lunch with me. Is that how the story went?” 

“Something like that. You were extremely charming from what I remember.” 

“I remember you being charming as well,” he teased. 

She turned to Mr. Brother. “And to thank me for sharing lunch with him, your son left me a nice thank you gift at my apartment door later that day—which, by the way, I’ve gotten a ton of use out of.” Sansa winked. 

“Fuck. Me.” He thought in wonder. He gulped. She didn’t just say that. 

His pants suddenly felt tighter. He cleared his throat. “Good to know. I figured you might need something like that. You seemed a little wound up.” 

“Indeed, I was that day.” She looked down at his father. “You’ve raised an amazingly polite and thoughtful son, Mr. Brother. You should be very proud.” 

His dad chuckled. “Well, whattya know. And here I was thinking he was a bit of a dick.” 

Sansa burst into laughter, and Sandor followed suit. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. He was grateful that she hadn’t ratted him out. Truthfully, he’d regretted his knee-jerk reaction that day...just a bit. The little gift he had left her was his attempt at an apology, although it might not have come across that way. It pleased him that she was joking about it. 

“Are you spending Sevenmas Eve here with your dad?” she asked. 

“Yeah. It’s just the two of us, and he refuses to come to my place. So, I brought in some food from Dornish Garden. You know that restaurant?” 

She nodded. “I could live on the breadsticks and salad.” 

“It’s in the oven. I just need to heat it up.” 

“Will you stay and have something to eat, Sansa?” His dad asked. 

Sansa looked hesitant. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m supposed to be eating with my family in Winterfell.” 

The look of disappointment on his dad’s face was obvious. She caught it and immediately changed her tune.

“But you know...” she said. “Dornish Garden is really too good to pass up. My stomach is growling. So, maybe I can have a little appetizer with you guys?” 

“That would be wonderful. And then stay for a piece of your mom’s pie before you hit the road.” 

His dad fiddled with the joystick on the arm of his chair and maneuvered to the table. 

She followed him and turned around to flash Sandor a smile. He smiled back. 

So much for an uneventful dinner. 

Having Sansa here made him tense and excited at the same time. It was an odd mix. He was still pretty baffled that she was the same friend his dad had been raving about for the past several days. Her keeping him company made him realize that she really was a genuinely good person. It hadn’t been an act. 

During dinner, Sansa and Sandor snuck glances at each other. He knew there was probably so much she wanted to say to him, that she couldn’t in front of his father. Perhaps some of those things contained expletives. 

Sansa chewed on her lasagna and asked, “So, what do you do, Sandor?” 

He took a sip of his wine to ponder how he wanted to answer that and finally said, “I’m an entrepreneur.” 

His father was just about to open his big mouth before he was able to divert the conversation before his dad could start to tell her more about him.

Snapping his fingers, he said, “Hey, Dad. Did you tell Sansa about your surgery?” 

A look of concern crossed her face. “What surgery?” 

His father downplayed it. “No big deal. Just gonna finally get my hip replaced. Been needing to for a long time, and I’m stuck in this chair until my leg gets stronger anyway.” 

“Oh wow. When?” 

“Next month.” 

Sandor broke apart a piece of bread. “I’ve been trying to convince him to move in with me for a while, but he won’t budge.” 

“I’m comfortable in my apartment. It’s simple, and I know where everything is.” 

She sighed. “Well, depending on how you feel, Mr. Brother, it might be better to be where your son can look after you at night for a little while.” 

Sandor’s eyes locked with hers when he said, “Thank you. I agree.” 

Well, that was a win. somehow he had diverted the topic of his job and got Sansa on his side when it came to his father’s post-op situation to boot. 

After dinner, he poured some more wine for them as they devoured the pumpkin pie Sansa had brought. True to form, after any amount of alcohol, his father literally conked out in his seat. His head bent back and he began to snore. 

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“You do hear that, right? He’s more than breathing. He’s fine. It’s what he does when he has the slightest amount of alcohol.” 

“Okay. Well, you would know.” 

He took her empty pie plate over to the counter. “Can I cut you another slice?” 

She held out her hand. “No. I’m done. Thank you.” 

“The pie was delicious. Thank your mother for the recipe.” 

Sansa looked a little sad. “Oh...I wish I could. My mom is dead.” 

“Great. Good one, you stupid cunt,” Sandor thought to himself.

“I’m sorry. I feel like an ass now.” 

“Well, an ass would be your norm, wouldn’t it?” She smiled. 

He exhaled and stared at her in silence for a few moments. “I probably deserve that.” Returning to the table, he pulled out his chair and sat down. “How long has your mother been gone?” 

“My parents died in a car crash last year.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you. It was a head-on collision. The driver was drunk...came out without a scratch.”

It knocked the wind out of him. That was some pretty heavy stuff. He didn’t know what to say, so he shut his mouth and let her continue.

“When your whole world changes in the blink of an eye, it alters your entire outlook on life. At least for me it did. It’s why I’ve tried to do good for people, why I switched from a corporate job to interior design, which is my passion. I’m still trying to get on my feet in that arena…but I’m getting there.” 

He felt like a million unsaid words were choking him. He felt a pressing need to somehow explain his actions that first day. He’d really wanted to address it from the moment she walked in the door, but there hadn’t been an appropriate time until now. Not to mention, she’d just opened up to him in a pretty big way. He could do the same. 

“Sansa…I need to apologize to you for my behavior that day. I honestly don’t know what came over me.” 

“You don’t have to—” 

“No. I need to. Hear me out.” 

She nodded and let him speak. 

“I’d been visiting dad, trying to get his sink to stop leaking...because I hate hiring anyone for something I can do myself. It’s not about the money. It’s just the way I’ve always been. I’d just gotten some bad news about a work-related issue and had gone outside for a breather and a cigarette. I shouldn’t have been smoking, because I’d quit.” 

He continued, “Anyway, when you came over to me, I wasn’t in my right mind. I immediately put a label on you that wasn’t even correct. When you assumed I was homeless, in that moment, it was like I’d gone back in time for a second. You’d turned into every stuck-up rich kid in school who’d ever teased me growing up for these scars and coming in with ripped clothing. I came from the opposite side of the tracks, and a part of me still feels self-conscious about people’s perceptions of me. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a self-made success story now or not, that shit sticks with you. And unfortunately, Sansa, you got caught up in my knee-jerk reaction. I’m very sorry.” 

She smiled. “So…once you realized you were in the wrong, how did buying me a bag of dildos become the next logical step?” 

“Fair question. Believe it or not, that was my attempt at an apology.” 

She bent her head back in laughter. “I don’t know... saying ‘I’m sorry for overreacting’ might have worked just as well?” 

“That wouldn’t have been as fun to execute.” He laughed. “It was my mother who actually taught me that humor was a cure-all for most things. That was my attempt at honoring her.” 

“With a bag of dicks…”

He shrugged. “I suppose. It seemed right at the time.” 

She let out a deep sigh. “Well, apology accepted.” 

His eyes stayed fixed on her smile. She had a beautiful smile, so comforting. “No wonder Dad liked her so much,” he thought.

“Thank you for keeping my father company. I can’t be here all of the time. It’s nice to know he has good people around looking out for him.” 

“Honestly, your father has given me a lot of practical advice. I’m just as lucky to have him.” 

“Oh yeah? What kind of advice has the old geezer given you?” 

“Just advice on life…men...” 

He chuckled. “You’re listening to dating advice from an eighty-year-old man?” 

“He’s very wise. I recently ended a long-term relationship that wasn’t right for me. Your father pointed out something that I hadn’t even noticed, that Harry’s shoes were always perfectly shiny.” 

“What was the significance of that?” He asked. 

“In retrospect, there was a lot about that relationship that wasn’t right for me. If I’d noticed the shiny shoes earlier, maybe it would’ve tipped me off to the fact that Harry was very self-centered and materialistic and wouldn’t have been the right person for me. Your dad is very perceptive. He’s shared a lot of stories about his relationship with your mom, too. Just really precious stuff.”

That made him smile. Thinking about his parents’ love for each other always did. It was rare, and he’d honestly given up on ever finding that for himself in this lifetime. 

He wanted to know more about Sansa. 

“So, you said you’re an interior designer...but that wasn’t always your career?” 

“No, I was a business analyst. I’d gone to school for business. But after losing mom and dad, I decided it was time to do something I was passionate about. So I started attending interior design school at night and put all of my resources into a new business. I eventually left my old career. I have a couple of design clients who keep me afloat, but I’m still growing.” 

“Good for you. Not many people have the balls to take the bull by the horns like that.” 

She tilted her head. “What is it exactly that you do?” 

Ugh. “I...work in real estate.” 

He wasn’t quite sure why he continued to feel the need to be vague. he guessed since they were getting along so well, he didn’t want her developing any preconceived notions about him. The way they’d met was bad enough. 

She waited a bit for him to elaborate, but then when hedidn’t, she just said, “I see.” 

His father suddenly jumped in his chair, waking himself up. 

“Well, look who’s still alive!” Sandor joked.

His father blinked several times “How long was I out this time?” 

“About a half-hour.” 

“Sansa still here?” 

“I’m right here, Mr. B.” She smiled. 

He finally turned and saw her. “My son hasn’t scared you away yet, eh?” 

“No. We’ve actually been having a pretty nice conversation.” She looked at the clock. “But actually, I should get going. My family is going to wonder where I am.” 

Sandor put his hands in his pockets, wishing he could have told her to stay. But it was Sevenmas Eve, and she needed to be with her family. 

“Give them my love,” his dad said to her. 

She bent down and gave him a hug before he took off to the bathroom. 

Sandor walked Sansa to the door, and an awkward silence ensued as she lingered just outside the doorway. 

“Thank you for dinner,” she said 

“Thank you for—oh I don’t know—let’s see. Thank you for not ratting me out as a condescending asshole to my father. Thank you for looking out for said old man over the past several days...also for a nice conversation and a damn good pie to boot.” 

She leaned in. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Yeah.” 

Her breath brushed against his cheek as she said, “I still sort of think you’re an asshole.”

Shaking his head, he laughed. “You’re nothing if not honest, Sansa.” He lifted a brow. “And you might be right.” 

She said nothing else before taking off. Her ass wiggled as she walked down the hall. Damn if watching that wasn’t the best Sevenmas gift he could’ve asked for.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a long time since I contributed. Life in the time of COVID has been trying. My patient was hospitalized with it and struggled for a long time before *finally* winning the battle! Yay! In the meantime, I’ve had to work with new patients, which has been exhausting. I’ve been hoarding my free time for myself and my family. 
> 
> Hopefully, my life is back on the right track and I can participate once more!
> 
> This will be a shortie, maybe 5 chapters. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Btw, thank you to whomever invented Sevenmas!


End file.
